


thy love is sweeter than wine

by illuminatiny (fleurdelilitu)



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, AoGG/AWaE blended universe, Begging, Coming Untouched, F/M, Hair Kink, Just the Tip, Lack of Communication, Long Hair, Loss of Virginity, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Probably not 3k of porn either, Smut, contraceptive discussions, everything is soft and golden and painless, i can't tell whether this is 3k of porn or 3k of crack, i have been reliably informed this is not in fact at all 3k of crack, implicit reference to period specific misogyny and slut shaming, penetrative sex should never hurt even if it’s the first time this is a psa, period specific birth control, period specific lingerie, promises of marriage, these absolute horny nerds are smitten and just want to fuck, they’re in their early twenties and last year of Redmond university, updated to 6k words of mostly porn w a healthy dose of shirbert fluff and a touch of philjo angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23279371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurdelilitu/pseuds/illuminatiny
Summary: Anne lets down her hair and spends the night.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 34
Kudos: 306
Collections: Shirbert smut





	1. Chapter 1

Gilbert uncoils Anne’s hair from its intricate knots in the privacy of his room. Her face is upturned towards him, gently lit by the flickering lamplight, eyes wide and guileless. Her hair, unfashionably long, falls to her waist in thick pre-Raphaelite curls. The rich auburn tresses glimmer and shift in colour and tone in the light, burnt orange threaded through with golden and crimson. Gilbert has always loved her hair. He takes a lock of it in hand, wrapping it tenderly around two fingers as he stands before her.

Anne is a tall woman, but she’s still a head shorter than his height when standing. She blinks, slowly, and her thick eyelashes seem darker than usual in the dim lighting. There’s a coy smile on her face. She presses her hands to his chest and her lips seek out his. He weaves his hand through her hair and urgently kisses her back. She knows the effect she has on him. They are both aware of the impropriety of moments such as these. It’s dark out, and Anne will not be returning to Patty's Place tonight. In the past three and a half years of courting, they’ve had a tendency to flout propriety. As Anne undoes the buttons of his shirt, still pressing kisses to his mouth, and sweeps it back off his shoulders, Gilbert worries that they’ve also developed a tendency to flout sensibility. He stills her hands on his abdomen, stopping her for a moment as she pulls at his undershirt.

“Anne, wait—“

She waits, head cocked, eyes gleaming in the dark. He cannot make out their depths in the dim lighting, but the intensity of her gaze and the patient stoicism of her expression is familiar. It’s the face of a woman burning with naked longing, trying to draw back for his sake. He sighs, presses his lips to her forehead, and runs his fingers once more through her copper hair longingly. “Let’s not do anything foolish.” The words are half heartedly muttered. They have had this conversation before. Gilbert worries that she will grow bored of his cautious nature. Anne leans up and brushes his mouth with her own, briefly. “Our love is anything but foolish,” she murmurs. The syrupy quality of her low, hushed voice sends shivers down his spine and heat to his groin. Not that he needs any more encouragement when he has her alone like this. With her hair down and all of her willing to be his.

“And still, I have three more years at medical school after we finish this semester, three more years before we can be wed.” Gilbert’s words are a warning and reminder, even as his arm wraps around her waist, fingers splayed possessive on her back as he pulls her into him. Anne stills, focusing on the feeling of his arm around her, fingers flexing against her flesh as his other hand clings to her locks. He embraces her tenderly, face crushed into the tendrils of hair that lie against her neck and clavicle. She can feel his breath on her skin, warm and damp. She notes the minute shift as his breathing becomes slightly shakier, slightly shorter, slightly faster. The hand still tangled in her hair tightens, just a fraction.

Gilbert is asking her for restraint because he is struggling with his own. Anne recognises this, just as she recognises the reason behind many of Gilbert’s other requests that he leaves unverbalised. He asks without asking because to verbalise would be to acknowledge his desire explicitly. Anne has a preference for tending to these desires, regardless.

As a firm believer in independent choice and equality of the sexes, Gilbert is in fact enamoured by Anne’s particular independence. He is drawn to her strength and forbearance. Asking Anne to grow her hair long, when long hair hasn’t been fashionable since they were children, is therefore not something that Gilbert would ever do. After all, Anne’s tendency towards vanity and keeping up to date with the latest fashions is hardly a well kept secret. Why would he ask, why would he try shape her to fit his needs? He fell in love with her in the time it took for her to grow her hair from that embarrassing closely shorn crop to a trendy flapper bob. Regardless, as Anne has discovered, his love for her stubbornly red hair is quite… particular. And the more of it for him to indulge in, the better. So she keeps it long in order to feel his moods by the ways in which he will grasp at it, to watch him feast his eyes on it, to watch him shake under its touch. But Gilbert would never have asked her to do this, no.

Gilbert has also never asked her to marry him. Anne wonders, sometimes, if he is aware of this. It is an accepted eventuality, by almost everyone back on the Island. He speaks of their eventual matrimony very rarely, but always as a given. Right from the first, he claimed a desire for her to be his in the eyes of both law and Lord. Back then, it thrilled her in such a way that she could not speak. The thought of it thrills her even now. A shared home, shared future, shared life. Still, she would like to be asked. One day. She asks now, trying for lightness: “And are we to be wed right away then? Shall we say the day you are given your doctor’s license?”

Gilbert pulls back at that, his eyes hooded and fingers sliding to cup her jaw. Anne feels her heart rise in her throat as his eyes roam over her. “Whatever day you want Anne-girl, Anne of my heart.” His voice is hoarse and eyes filled with an indescribable intensity. Desire floods through her in response to the sight of him, somehow both debauched and devastated, and she realises with sudden clarity that, just as he has never asked her outright, she has never before given any kind of response to his suppositions.

She gazes upon him fondly, feeling a weight she didn’t realise she was carrying fall away. “Any day Gilbert, you need only ask.” The words lay between them, quiet and unassuming. A smile appears on his face, warm and wide. It is a smile that she hasn’t seen since the first time she declared her love. “And I will my love, I will.” He murmurs lowly, and pulls her to him.

All thoughts of restraint are forgotten as he licks into her mouth with the ease and familiarity of years of practice, unbuttoning her dress with a sense of urgency that surprises and thrills her. He draws back once he has reached the last button, slipping the dress off her shoulders and pulling it down past her hips. She steps out delicately, standing before him in her slip, and he realises she has foregone stockings and girdle.

He swallows, twice, letting her press him down into his bed, her quick fingers unbuckling his belt and letting it fall to the ground. Pulling off his undershirt, she lets her hands roam free over his chest. He hisses lightly as she strokes at his abdominals, her hair falling between them to brush over his nipples as she leans down and claims his lips. His hands rise up to gently pull down the straps of her slip, and the satin fabric slithers to the floor, leaving her in just her brassiere and panties. She joins him on the bed then, straddling his hips and kissing him with more urgency.

Gilbert can’t decide what to touch. All of her feels like perfection. His hands grasp at her waist, her hips, her hair… and as she rocks gently, minutely, down upon him, he gently grips at her thighs on either side of his hips and pulls his lips away. “Let me touch you Anne,” his hand is sliding up towards the open leg of her panties, pausing for a second to finger at the lace that lined the satin georgette fabric. “Let me bring you there...” She swallows and nods, and his fingers slip up to stroke at her swollen, drenched sex, sliding in with ease to press down on her nub and into her opening.

He groans, loudly, at the feeling, and she mewls softly in response, urging on his movements with her hips and desperately pressing her mouth back against his, tasting his tongue and teeth. As his fingers at her centre move more and more rapidly she pulls back to sit astride him, hips rolling in tandem with his movements, eyes glazed and lips parted. She looks like a goddess, Gilbert thinks hazily. He uses his free hand to unclasp her brassiere, and she pulls it off and flings it to the side with an irritated pause. Her hair falls over her shoulders and down her belly, silky soft locks the colour of fire. The strands brush across the pale rose tips of her nipples, which seem to rise with every panted breath and hushed moan. The sight of her spurs him on, and together they bring her to her release. She laughs, her breath hitching and disrupting the flow of her giggles.

He rolls them over now, kissing every inch of her freckled torso. Her movements are languid and slow, but as he rests above her she slides her hand between them to unbutton his trousers and pull them gently down his thighs, using her feet to push them further until they pool at his feet. Pausing, she looks down at his curly head. “Gilbert.” His lips have made their home around one of her nipples, and he merely hums in affirmative. “Gilbert!” He looks up at her, unconcerned, giving her nipple a swipe of his tongue that has her catching her breath. “Gilbert, take off your socks.”

He detaches from her, laughing and delirious, and clambers to the other end of the bed, pushing his trousers to the floor and tugging his socks off to join them. She likes him like this, in nothing but his underwear and skin. His gaze on her is heavy, as he slides back between her thighs, pulling her panties down and off to join their clothes on the floor. As she leans back on her elbows, naked before him, Anne dizzily realises exactly why he was concerned earlier. Half clothed frolics in secreted away glades and valley, while both intoxicating and delightful, do not have the same edge of danger as that of being here in his room: completely bare and open before him.

“You are so beautiful Anne.” Gilbert’s voice is raw and husky, as he slowly lies belly down between her legs, raising each limb to lay across his broad shoulders. “So very, very beautiful.” He meets her gaze with a wicked smile before bringing his head down to slide his tongue in and over her. Her vocalisations are breathy, growing louder as he pleasures her with his mouth, gently sliding two thick fingers in and out of her in tandem with each lick and suckle. She feels her second orgasm more powerfully than her first, thighs quaking against him.

“You’re going to wear me out,” she whispers into his lips after he’s slid up the length of her body. “Would you have me worn out, Mr Blythe, before I even get to touch you?” He pulls away, briefly, letting his gaze drift down to her breasts, drinking her nakedness, the way her ruddy locks fall across her pale, creamy skin. He loops an arm around her waist, pulling her upright to settle in his lap, and starts twining his fingers through the silken strands. When he finally responds, his voice is thick. “Touching you is more than enough for me. If you are worn out, then we will have to nap so I can wear you out again.”

She grins, and slides a hand into his underwear. His eyes snap back up to hers as she takes him in hand. He spoke the truth: he is wet and half soft, having clearly found his release in pleasuring her. In her grasp he hardens back up rapidly, and his breaths get shorter as he grunts into her neck, once again pulling slightly at the hair tangled around his palm. “Take these off,” she whispers. “I want to see all of you.” He groans loudly at that, and Anne feels a spurt of warmth join the fluid lubricating her hand’s movement.

“Anne, baby, I don’t think…” he turns his face to her neck, pressing his mouth into her hair urgently. “I want to be inside you so bad.” Anne’s face flushes and she grasps him tighter, her movements becoming more rapid. “Would that be such a bad thing?” She whispers. His eyes meet hers, hooded and intent. He slides a hand up along her scalp, threading his fingers through and she continues to milk him steadily. Without breaking her gaze or rhythm, she murmurs: “I would rather have you buried deep inside me when you make me see God.” Gilbert comes then, eyes blinking and voice gasping, and she guides him through it.

After, he pulls off his briefs and uses them to wipe up the mess, before taking her naked body in his arms and curving himself around her protectively. Their legs are entwined and he plays with the copper curls at her pubis with one hand while the fingers of the other braid her auburn tresses back absentmindedly. She burrows into him, indulging in the feeling of skin against skin. The hard lines of his torso against her back, the soft vulnerability of his nakedness against her behind.

She’s half in dream state, dozing against him for what could be minutes, could be hours. Slowly, she comes to awareness again, feeling all her nerves tighten as her entire body focuses on the sensation of his lips brushing softly up and down her neck. Anne’s eyes flutter open. She feels intoxicated by the sensation, even as her body feels heavy and sated. “I love you.” He murmurs right behind the curve of her ear, and she loops one arm behind her to tug him down for a tender kiss. It deepens slowly, and she can feel his cock stirring against her arse. She rolls her hips back against him languidly, breaking the kiss to take a deep breath. His hips follow hers, and she can feel the shape of him hard against her now.

He slips the hand that has been resting on her mound down, his fingers finding her again, and she cries out, oversensitised. He’s kissing her again now, his tongue thrusting into her mouth deep and urgent, and as they move clumsily together she feels his cock slip between her thighs. They both still as the length of him slides along her wet lower lips to bump at his knuckles, buried deep within her. He extracts his fingers slowly, instead circling and applying pressure to her clit. She can feel his cockhead slide past her entrance, and she hisses at the sensation. “You feel so good,” she whispers. He presses his forehead against her shoulder blade, shuddering. His hips roll forward again, as if involuntary. He slides up against her again, as she clenches her thighs around him and rolls her own hips back, slowly.

Her hand reaches between her thighs to take him in hand, to stroke his slippery length once before placing her palm underneath, pressing his cock up against her and grinding her clit down as she slowly rolls her hips back and forth, fucking along his length. He follows the rhythm she’s set willingly, and together their movements slowly, slowly increase in urgency until the head of his cock slips just so, nudging inside her and they both moan and, shuddering together, stop.

His breathing is laboured now, and she’s panting heavily. He can feel her pulse around him. “It’s just the tip.” She mutters breathlessly, her voice sounding wanton and desperate. He flexes his palms on her hips and she shifts back, her hand slipping away from his cock as she takes another inch inside. He groans into her neck, presses his palm against her belly, and cannot help easing forward. He finds himself fully seated within her. “Oh, God.” His eyes fly wide open and he can’t help but rock his hips slightly against her, seeking to penetrate impossibly deeper. Anne feels warm and wet and tight and soft, lightly convulsing around him as she whimpers at the movement. “Baby, oh baby are you okay? Have I hurt you?” He can feel her squeeze experimentally against him and he groans again, slowly pulling out. She makes a sulky sound, rocking back towards him, and he has to still her hips with a hand. “Doesn’t hurt,” she manages. “Feels so, so very good. Oh Gil, so very good. Just like I imagined it would.”

It takes everything in him to then extricate himself from her body, and he breathes heavily against her nape before she rolls to face him. “Are you okay?” She whispers. He strokes his hand down her neck to cup the curve of her breast. “I can’t risk getting you with child.” He manages, unable to meet her gaze. Her body is flawless. “You haven’t finished inside.” She sounds hesitant, almost pleading. “Surely we could… try it. Just for a moment.” He meets her gaze and leans down to press his mouth against hers. Pressing her back into the mattress, he settles between her thighs. His thumb circles her clit slowly and he looks at her with dark, darkest eyes.

“I knew you coming back here tonight was a terrible idea.” He laughs, a bit self deprecating. “Or the best of ideas,” She challenges back, fire in her eyes. “I’ve wanted you inside me for four, long, years.” He hums at that, a smirk flickering at the side of his mouth. He’s watching his thumb pleasing her clit. He knows he’s good at this. They’ve had practice in heavy petting for long enough. He knows her body so well and yet. Now that he's been inside her, felt her around him... Years of resisting, and in one hazy moment he's been ruined for it. He never wants to stop."I could live and die between your thighs." He muses, pressing his mouth to her clavicle and sucking the soft skin there. “Oh... Please fuck me Gilbert. Please, I need you. Fuck me now and I will go to Phil first thing in the morning to find out where she got her birth control from.” His entire body shudders with want and he seeks out her gaze desperately. Anne stares back, earnest and unblinking. “Birth control?” His voice sounds a bit broken, and she can feel his cock pulse against her thigh.

“If I had known… that this would happen, I would have asked her sooner.” Anne is shamefaced. “Though, given my desire for this… I should have been prepared. We, I.. Gilbert, we have been so careful to resist before.” Gilbert chuckles and shifts above her. She can feel him, still hot and hard against her thigh. He tilts her face up and looks her dead in the eye. “Family planning is not a responsibility that is yours alone to bear. If I had known you were going to tell me tonight, of all nights, that one day… one day you would say yes, when the time comes…" He takes a deep breath. "If I had known that, known the joy and ecstasy I would feel tonight thinking of the home and bed we will one day share, knowing it was a shared house of dreams, Anne! If I had known, I would not, could not, have invited you up, to stay alone in here with me. Not without first, ah. Seeking precautions.” His voice is humourless and serious. She trembles all over, just to think of it: the effect she has, they have, their shared future has, on this darling, darling man. She leans forward and gently nips at his bottom lip.

“Please Gil, just for tonight… let us flirt with danger, let us try just for a moment… I cannot express how much I need you inside…” The words are expelled rapidly an aching whisper. His eyes don’t leave hers once as he moves above her, takes himself in hand, and enters her in one fell stroke.


	2. Chapter 2

Anne wakes before dawn. She can feel the chill on her skin, and she grounds herself in it. Allows awareness to come to her slowly. She relishes the gooseflesh rippling up her arms and the cold tightening her nipples. Feels the warm, wet openness between her thighs and the heat of Gilbert at her back. The stark contrast of his warmth and the cold air feels delightful. She can feel herself growing wetter, the hot liquid leaking out and cooling between her thighs. She rubs her thighs together to ease the ache and Gilbert stirs behind her, his arm around her tightening as he comes into consciousness.

She’s never experienced this before. Waking naked with Gilbert, having spent the night. She thinks about how he gazed upon her naked flesh with awed desire and adoration, and she nestles back into him. She wants him again. Panting above her, buried deep inside her. His mouth on hers, moving in tandem with his thrusts. Grinding up into him, feeling his hands on her waist, her breasts, her hair. The weight of his body bearing down as he fucked into her relentlessly. The way she came, contracting uncontrollably around him. His hissed curses as he pulled out and spilt his seed across her belly and breasts. She thinks of how her release brought him to his, and she thinks that there’s something poetic in that. Something dreadfully sensual and romantic. She’s positively dripping now, and she sneaks a hand between her thighs.

Gilbert is properly stirring, his body pressing closer and curling up around hers. She realises with a sudden, wicked, delight that he is hardening. She can feel him unconsciously rubbing his cock against the crease of her arse. Her fingers dip inside herself, slow and sure. She is enjoying wallowing in the sensations, teasing herself. Gil nuzzles into her neck, his hand slipping up to cup a breast, his thumb circling her tightly budded nipple. “Good morning sweetheart.” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss into the cove where her neck meets clavicle. She rolls her hips back into him in response. “And a very good morning it is,” she says, half laughing. “Is this how you usually wake?” Gilbert pauses, his fingers stilling on her breast and his hips thrusting into her slightly. “Well, uh…” His voice is throaty and he sounds dazed, awkward. “It is!” Anne gleefully deduces. “How wondrous: the mysterious and delightful machinations of the male body.” Something in Gilbert’s posture softens, and she can feel him relax behind her as he laughs. He swiftly pinches her nipple and grinds his cock against her more intently. “Not so wondrous as the delights of your flesh.” His husky voice is somehow both teasing and serious, dripping with honeyed want. This response makes her smile.

Anne feels that Gilbert is deeply proficient at being poetic, for all his rationality. She has never felt any mockery or disdain when he laughs at, or gently teases, her more whimsical tendencies. And for all his irreverence, she knows that the joy he feels, and the words of romance he speaks, are deeply genuine. Gilbert has loved her for longer than she can begin to comprehend, and she is careful to assure him that the altar at which he worships is not untended. She rolls towards him now, and watches curiously as he looks down, eyes tracing her flesh. He pulls her closer, pressing his mouth to hers and crushing her breasts against his chest. She kisses back—gentle, languishing.

“I have to go my darling. I need to head home at first light.” She whispers the words unwillingly. Oh, how she wishes to stay in his embrace for eternity! To watch the dawn as they share in each other’s bodies, then to dress one another and step out arm in arm. Such a thing cannot be, she realises. Not for a while yet. Gilbert’s arms around her tighten and he presses his face to her neck with a groan. He doesn’t say anything to desist her but she laughs anyway, a helpless giggle of fondness. He’s as unwilling as she is, to break the spell of the night. She presses kisses into the curls covering his head, to the rim of his ear, and then to his cheeks and nose as he slowly turns his face up to meet hers. She is tender with him, full to the brim with adoration and appreciation for her most-gentle lover. His arm around her waist slips down and he cups her bottom fondly, caressing the round swell and slipping his fingers gently under to feel her wetness. He groans again, finding her open and ready. His palm squeezes her arse, massaging the flesh forward as his fingers slip in easily, slick and intent. She grinds forward shamelessly, pressing her clit against the base of his cock as his fingers press deeper into her from behind.

She can feel his cockhead weeping onto her belly and she wants him inside again. She feels absolutely insatiable. She pushes a hand against his shoulder, and he lets go of her immediately. She keeps pushing, bearing him down onto his back and rising above him, her knees straddling his hips. His hands settle on her waist as he watches her with that quietly serious, focused look he gets. It’s a look he only ever has for her, and her alone. Taking his cock in hand, she guides him to her entrance as she settles down, fully encasing him in one fluid movement. She can feel every inch of him, and she tenses her muscles around him while raising her hips up, then pushes back down. His response leaves her ravenous, as he grips at her buttocks and judders up into her helplessly in response. She grinds down, starts riding him in earnest. He watches her in wonder as her hair falls wild around her, coming undone from the loose braid he had loosely wrangled it into the night before. Her small breasts bounce in rhythm with her soft, rapid, high pitched gasps. She is the embodied divine. He squeezes her arse and thrusts faster, his grunts turning to groans as she starts contracting around him, her breathy moans echoing in his ears, heavy and uneven.

“Anne, stop, stop.” He hisses through his teeth, and she stills instantly, eyes wide and worried. “I’m going to come.” He looks pained, embarrassed at having to interrupt her in her moment of completion and she flushes in response. She is giddy and sated, collapsed against his chest and still pulsing around him. She climbs off him swiftly, and he takes himself in hand. He is slick with her wet. “No, I want to…” She trails off, leaning over him. He can feel her breath, hot and heavy, skittering across his exposed flesh before she flicks her tongue along his length, tasting herself on his flesh. His pelvis shudders up once involuntarily, and she curls her hand around his cock in response and confidently swallows him down.

Gilbert looks down at his Anne-girl, her flesh all soft and rosy in the dim light. Her lips spread around his cock and her ruddy hair falling free. She suckles at his cockhead, and he loses himself completely. He urges her on with grunts and hisses, as his hands bury into her hair. One of her hands slips down to gently fondle his balls as she relentlessly milks him with palm and throat. He mindlessly strokes his hands up through her hair, indulging in the feeling of the silky fiery tendrils brushing across his belly and thighs, before returning his hands to her head. Tenderly, he weaves his fingers through the tresses, cupping the back of her scalp and gently thrusting up into the tight, wet clutch of her throat. Anne swallows him greedily, looks up at him through the red curtain of her hair, and squeezes his cock and balls in sync. Groaning loudly, Gilbert attempts to warn her to no avail; she eagerly takes him deeper as he shudders through his release.

Licking her lips, Anne slips up his body to kiss him, and he can taste their mingled juices on her tongue. “Now I really must go.” She murmurs, smiling fondly and swinging her legs off the edge of the bed. The night sky through his window has lightened considerably, calling in the soft royal blue that ushers in dawn. Gilbert sits up with her, tilting her chin back to kiss her tenderly again. He doesn’t want to let her go, doesn’t want to think about the mundane realities of his day ahead. His hand on her waist inches slowly down towards her pubis. Anne stops it with her own. “No darling, as much as I would love to stay here with you to watch the sunrise, you know I must return to the Patty’s Place before Aunt Jimsie wakes up. Phil was able to make my excuses last night but they won’t hold up if I am absent this morning. She can only stall for me for so long.” She presses a firm, final kiss to his mouth and then dances her way out of his grasp. He leans back then, watches the way her fiery hair storms around her pale lithe form, as she gathers her clothes up from where they have been strewn across the floor. Gilbert has a sudden vision of Anne as a naked maenad, gathering wild fruits in a wooded glade. The thought brings a smile to his face, and he shakes his head at the fancy.

Anne shimmies into her satin panties with all the grace of the fae, and Gilbert stands, unabashed in his nakedness, to fix the clasp of her brassiere. She slides her slip over her head and he tugs it down, pressing a kiss into his favoured hollow at the base of her neck. Finally, she steps into her dress and buttons herself rapidly, leaning back slightly to rest her head on Gil’s shoulder. He kisses her forehead lightly and gathers her hair back, running his fingers through the copper curls. She takes a step forward and he continues to tame her wild tresses. She passes back pins with practiced ease as he brushes her locks out and smoothly braids and coils her hair into a sleek chignon at the back of her neck. He kisses her exposed nape when he has finished, and she turns to him wide eyed and breathless, capturing his lips with hers. She vibrates in his arms, floating like a bird about to take flight, and he sighs into her gently.

“I’ll walk you down—“ he starts, reaching for his trousers. “No,” she interrupts him, “No, that’s quite alright my love. I am so filled with such ecstasy I think I might just explode. The cool morning air will help ground me. Look, it is dawn now. It will be quite safe, whereas being seen out on your arm at such an early hour would be quite damning. Oh Gil, don’t look so abashed. You’ve filled me with such joy. When will you visit on me at Patty’s Place? This evening? I want you to stay right here, in this place of our lovemaking, until the spirit moves you to go about your day. I want you to think on our house of dreams, of our future of wonder. Oh—“ Gilbert cuts her off by kissing her soundly, his hands firm and strong at her waist.

“As if I could possibly think on anything else.” He grins down at her. “I shall try come round by 5 o’clock. I am helping Dr Burke out with some administration at his clinic after my morning classes. By God, Anne I cannot face seeing you chaperoned, knowing all of you as I now do.” Anne laughs, a rippling peal of delight. “As if you hadn’t already divested me of most of my respectability long before Patty’s Place and Aunt Jimsie came into the picture!” He chuckles softly in response, his hands smoothing her dress down across her belly. She quiets under his warm, fond gaze. “Well now.” She whispers. Gilbert has that blessed half smile she loves so, and his hazel eyes are filled with desire and contentment. “Well.” He murmurs back. They kiss, one last prolonged press of lips to lips, and Anne slowly walks to the door. She slips on her shoes and the coat that she’d left lying across the dresser, then turns to smile at Gilbert. He moves towards her, kisses her again, and again, before resting his forehead against hers. “Goodbye for now. I love you” He murmurs. “I love you.” She whispers, letting it burst out of her with a vibrant smile on her face. “Bye.” She turns the door knob and slips out, leaving Gilbert standing alone in his room, completely bare but for the dizzied grin on his lips and lovestruck look in his eyes.

* * *

Anne makes her way swiftly through Kingsport, dancing with the shadows, and slips into the park just in time to see the vibrant pink and purple hues of sunrise paint a celestial greeting across the skies. She ambles slowly through the park, up the crest of Spofford Avenue, and climbs hastily over the back fence into the orchard of Patty’s Place, noting the absence of light at Aunt Jimsie’s window. Carefully taking her shoes off before sneaking into the kitchen through the back door, Anne holds her breath as she pads silently through the living room and up the stairs. As she turns back, near the top, she sees the light turn on under Aunt Jimsie’s door, and she all but speeds up the final steps and into her small room. Collapsing on her bed with a gasp, she smiles helplessly at the roof, mind giddy and body aching with a gentle self consciousness.

Phil knocks on her door at half past eight, after her morning ablutions and just as she is finishing dressing for the day. She’s chosen a spruce green tea dress in corduroy, one she knows Gilbert likes. Phil enters the room, looks her up and down, and pins her with a smirk. She blushes instantly and collapses on the bed cross legged, shooting a pointed look at the open door. Phil closes it behind her and joins Anne on the bed, full on grinning now. “How was your illicit night then, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert?” She waggles her perfectly shaped eyebrows mischievously, eyes dancing. Anne flushes deeper and pulls at a thread on the patchwork quilt adorning her bed. “Philippa, dearest, you must tell me where to get birth control.” It bursts out in a rush, and Phil’s brows drop and mouth opens. “Oh my Lord, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, you didn’t!!” She whisper-yells in shock.

Anne giggles, looking embarrassed and delighted all at once. “I most certainly did Philippa Gordon, oh! Gilbert is going to ask me to marry him.” Philippa laughs at this. “Well of course, everybody who is anybody knows that you’ll be wed, you goose!” Anne stills and looks at her solemnly. “Well, yes, but, he’s never asked.” There’s something in her stormy grey eyes that is deeply imploring Phil to comprehend the weight which her words hold. Philippa, at a loss, shakes her chestnut curls slowly. “Well he most certainly will now, I suppose. You hopeless romantic! I suppose you’ve been waiting for him to sweep you off your feet with some ridiculous song and dance.” It’s Anne’s turn to shake her head in response. “No Phil, I can’t explain it. He has, everyone in fact, has always treated it as a given, but I was afraid he’d never bother to ask.” Phil pins her with a piercing stare at that. “Your darling Gil would never take you as a given, you know that.” Both women fall silent at that. After a pause, Phil asks more seriously: “Were you careful?” Anne swallows, nervous. “He didn’t… Finish inside.” She’s red again, unused to being so frank on such intimate matters. She glances nervously at the door, not wanting Stella or Priscilla to hear. Despite her long-standing intimate friendships with the pair, Phil (bar Diana, of course) is the only person she’s felt comfortable disclosing the extent of impropriety she and Gilbert have indulged in.

Phil nods, still solemn. “Well our monthlies are due next week, so you should be fine.” She grins at Anne with that. “Oh! Are you sore, do you need me to get you anything?” Anne is looking out the window with a dreamy smile on her face now, clearly lost in some delightful fantasy that Phil cannot be privy to. “No, I’m fine. There was no pain.” Phil raises an arch eyebrow that. “It seems your Gilbert knows how to treat you well then.... Unless there’s nothing really to him.” Anne turns back to her with a shriek and throws her pillow, which Phil laughingly catches and pushes aside. “The latter is NOT the case Miss Gordon, and that is all I have to say on the subject!” Anne gasps, affronted and amused. Phil sniggers in response, giving an unladylike snort. “In any case, we will need to sort you a sponge and some jelly. Your Mr Blythe will need to get a tin of prophylactics... It’s an absolute travesty that clinics won’t fit pessaries unless you are married, they're so terribly old fashioned!” The words are said with passion, but Anne can see the amusement fading to discomfort in her friend’s eyes.

“Phil,” She starts quietly, placing a hand on the other girl’s ankle. Phil musters a smile: “Don’t worry about me darling, I am ecstatic for you... Oh, you know how it is. I just can’t help but worry my past indiscretions have trampled any chance for joy.” Anne smiles sadly. “Did I ever tell you that Gilbert’s brother Bash married a woman with a child out of wedlock? When he came to the Island he met Mary, the woman of his dreams. He proposed to her that very same week, after discovering she had a son.” The words are said with fondness and humour, but Anne’s eyes are beseeching. “It’s not the same.” Phil whispers, “Jonas is to be a minister, for Pete’s sake!” Anne grasps Phil’s hands in hers in earnest now. “Jonas ADORES you Philippa, as right he should. You are brilliant and beautiful, and a thoroughly modern woman. It won’t change a thing.” Philippa swallows and nods rapidly, her eyes hopeful if not wholly convinced. “Enough. Enough with this dreariness, darling Anne. Let us instead focus on your happiness, and plan ahead for the next time insensibility takes you!” She rises up off the bed, tugging Anne with her. “Now, we have all of fifteen minutes for you to gush before we will be expected downstairs to breakfast before class. Go.”

Breathing deeply, Anne closes her eyes and thinks of Gilbert braiding her hair. Thinks of his focused, adoring gaze. His sure hands and wicked smirk. She thinks of how she is blessed to be loved by such a handsome, clever, witty man. How she is blessed to have fallen in love with him in turn. She can feel herself warming all over thinking about the night they have just spent, and she jumps to her feet in order to ground herself in her surroundings. Turning to Phil with the most glorious smile the other woman has ever seen adorn her face, she says simply: “It was perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! ❤️❤️ Keep safe and keep well; stay at home and read fic.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Song of Solomon.


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